


Open The Sky

by sasha_b



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, M/M, Rain, Revolution prompt table, Season/Series 01, implied Miles/Bass, melancholia, pre-episode 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass would like to love rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ Revolution prompt table, word: rain.
> 
> Language, spoilers for season one.

Bass would like to say he loves rain. They don’t get it very much anymore; the climate has definitely changed since the power went out, and it’s normally hot as a bitch until it’s not. Blast furnace hot, then Hoth-ice cold (man, he misses movies sometimes).

But the rain…that’s different. It’s melancholy and makes him sleepy and he doesn’t have _time_ for sleep, doesn’t have time to be tired, doesn’t have time to sit and worry and wonder just why in the fuck Miles left and where in the fuck his life is going to go now. He doesn’t have time to wonder why Jeremy keeps looking at him that way now, and why Tom Neville seems even more – Tom Neville-y than before. Whatever that means. He doesn’t damn well have _time_. There’s too much to do, and one day is the same as the other, even if it’s raining unexpectedly and the men are outside, their faces turned up, letting the amazing cool soak their uniforms and hair and skin and Bass watches for a few minutes from the windows in his office, gaze narrowed, brow furrowed, uniform crisp and dry and he suddenly turns from the vision of people smiling in the fucking dumb weather that has nothing to do with anything that’s happening right now.

The shouts of happiness permeate the windows and he frowns harder and reads the dispatches that have come in this morning in regards to the rebel camp down the road and the possible sighting of some defectors (Nora Clayton, surprise surprise) they’ve been looking for for a long while.

Close to sunset and the rain is stopping finally and the men are going back to their duties and Bass keeps reading until Jeremy pokes his head into the office and wishes him goodnight in that odd voice that’s been showing up lately. Bass waves a distracted hand at him and waits until the door is closed before rising and crossing to the windows that are tightly closed.

He scrubs a hand through his hair and cocks his head, his eyes dry but his throat is as tight as it’s ever felt, a giant ball of stuck _things_ he’ll most likely never get to say as big as the world he is attempting to revive.

The sunset is brilliant due to the water in the air and he finally swears and wrenches the window up, the brass and wooden parts screeching with his effort and he leans outside, hands on the sill, hair springing crazily almost immediately from the humidity, his wonderful uniform damp and sweaty and he closes his eyes and breathes in, the ache in his throat expanding as everything seems too real and bright, now.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to capture Bass' craziness here and still love him.


End file.
